by Teri Ames
“Yeah, but I find time to do other things. Like skating.” She had another chance to say it, but she just couldn’t do it. It would ruin the day and she didn’t want to do that.
They climbed the statue, then took goofy pictures of each other and a few joint selfies with the statue in the background.
On the ferry ride back, the wind picked up.
“Let’s go inside,” Shannon said.
“No, it’s more fun outside and it smells better. I’ll keep you warm.”
They sat on the bench, arms wrapped around each other, and talked about their friends from high school. Shannon put her head on Jake’s shoulder. It reminded her of their prom night, sitting side by side on the beach.
He gave her a tour of the Columbia campus.
“Wow. This is so urban. You need to come up to Masterson. There are cows wandering around on the quad.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Yeah. But it’s nothing like this. This is incredible.”
Jake took her to his favorite burger place for dinner. It was a hole-in-the-wall near campus, but Shannon agreed that the burger was one of the best she’d had. And the fries were salty and browned to crispy perfection.
“Now you get to see my room.”
“Is your roommate here?”
“Nope. Gone to Boston for the holiday.”
The rooms were smaller than the ones at Masterson, but something about being in the city made them feel more chic. She sat on the bed. It was time to tell him.
“Jake––“
He silenced her with a kiss. After a minute she pulled away.
“Jake––“
“Let’s talk later. Right now, I just want to be with you. It’s been three months.”
“But––“
“You used to like it when I did this.” He kissed her neck. “And this.” His hand worked its way under her shirt.
How could this be wrong? It was Jake. The boy she’d lost her virginity to two years ago. The boy who had nearly severed her heart from her body when he suggested they see other people at the end of last summer. Maybe she only thought she was in love with Keenan because she was getting back at Jake. This didn’t feel wrong. It felt way too good to be wrong. What the hell.
Afterward, she lay beside him in his twin bed. “I need to call Amy.”
“Don’t go back there tonight. Stay here with me.”
“What about her parents?”
“She can cover for you. I want to wake up next to the woman I love tomorrow.”
“I thought you wanted to see other people.”
“I said that, didn’t I?”
“You did. Didn’t you mean it?”
“I thought I did when I said it, but that’s just because I didn’t know what to expect at college. I was scared, weren’t you?”
“Yeah, but I would have tried to do the long distance thing if you had wanted.”
“I made a mistake. I realize it now. I want you here as much as you can come.”
“I can’t come down here all the time. I have to study too. Besides, we have final exams coming up in a couple of weeks.”
“I know. We do, too. Then, as soon as finals are over, we’ll both be home for Christmas break.”
“That’s true.”
“And the watchful eye of our parents.”
“Ugh. Don’t remind me,” Shannon said.
“That’s why it’s extra important that you spend the night tonight. It may be our only chance before next semester.”
Shannon thought about it. It was so great to be with Jake. She had thought she had it all figured out, but now she wasn’t sure. She owed it to herself to figure out which guy she was actually in love with.
“Okay. I’ll ask Amy to make up an excuse,” she said.
That night Shannon and Jake went out to listen to blues music. They held hands and laughed. Then, they made love in Jake’s single bed. Shannon realized that it was actually the first time they had really made love. All the times they’d had sex before had been the desperate gropings and grindings of horny teenagers. Here, away from their friends and parents, it felt different. More mature. Much better.
Shannon woke up with Jake spooning her and his arm holding her tight. It felt right. She was glad she hadn’t told him about Keenan. It would have hurt him too much.
Chapter 31
Tuesday, April 15, 2014
WHEN KEENAN walked out of his dormitory to go to his political science class, there were four reporters waiting to ambush him. A television news van was parked at the curb, doors open.
“Keenan, did you kill Shannon?” a male voice shouted from the bottom of the steps. He wanted to turn around and go back to his room, but he couldn’t afford to miss any more classes. There had been so many days at the beginning of the semester when his grief had made it too hard to get out of bed for his first class of the day. With hindsight, he wasn’t even sure what he had been grieving most: Shannon’s lost life or just the loss of control over his own life. It was probably a toss-up. He had stopped skipping classes when he realized he needed to regain even a smidgen of control. He couldn’t go back there.
“Keenan, how did you kill her?” It was a female voice.
Keenan threaded his way through the reporters and started walking.
“Did you dump her body in the river?” someone called after him.
Keenan kept walking, but they followed him. He picked up his pace as he made his way across campus and managed to lose all but one. The blonde in her mid-twenties looked like she ran marathons in her spare time. She wasn’t even breathing hard when she said, “How about an exclusive, Keenan? Tell me how Shannon died.”
“You’re sick,” he said, and he ducked into the English building. Once he was alone, he wished he could take it back. There was nothing to be gained by antagonizing the reporters. Of course, you’d have to be sick to do what they were doing to him.
When the class was over, Keenan and Aarav sat in silence while the professor cleared the podium and packed her bag. As soon as she had left the room, Keenan said, “Aren’t you going to ask me if I killed her?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I know you. I know how you felt about her.”
“That doesn’t seem to matter to the police. Or anybody else for that matter.”
“From what my family says, the police in India imprison people for things they didn’t do all the time. I guess it happens here too.”
Keenan nodded.
“Besides, you’re my best friend. What does it say about me if my best friend is a murderer?”
Keenan looked into Aarav’s near-black eyes and was grateful for the compassion he saw.
BARRY GOT the autopsy results a few days after Fred did and apparently even after the results were leaked to the press. He met with Keenan in his office that afternoon.
“Does it say how she died?” Keenan said.
“Not really.”
“Poor Shannon. I figured she was dead months ago, but now it’s so real.” The kid sounded sincere. Of course, he might be a good actor.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Barry said.
“Thanks.”
“Now that he has a body, Fred Dutton may decide to pursue a homicide charge, but I don’t think this autopsy report does much to help him.”
“Is there anything in there that points to murder?”
“The report says that she either drowned or was killed by head trauma.”
“If she drowned it was probably an accident, and they have to know I didn’t have anything to do with it.”
“Except that the toxicology report on her blood alcohol content was inconclusive.”
“But I’m telling you she was drunk.”
“We need more than just your word. Her friends said she wasn’t that intoxicated, and people that are barely intoxicated don’t fall into the river and drown on their own.”
“She was a lot more than a little intoxicated when I
saw her. That’s why I took her keys.”
“That’s the problem we’ve been having with this investigation. Everybody my investigator talked to downplayed Shannon’s intoxication.”
“That’s because they don’t want to get in trouble. They were drinking with her and they’re afraid of getting kicked out of school.”
“We’ve got to find someone, or better yet a few people who will say she was intoxicated. It would also help if we had someone who would testify about the party and the fact that they were serving alcohol to minors. I’m going to have my investigator make that her top priority. Toni’s good at getting people to talk to her.” Toni had her own investigations firm, but she spent half her time working on Barry’s cases. Barry found her to be quick witted, thorough, and worth every penny that his clients paid for her services.
“Nobody’s going to rat them out. There’s a code. That’s why I didn’t tell the police everything right up front.”
“We need to get someone else to break it,” Barry said. “Otherwise, you may become the scapegoat.”
FRED DUTTON hadn’t been reelected as Adam’s County State’s Attorney every four years for more than two decades by being politically imprudent. He understood his role well. His constituents wanted to know that he was keeping order in Adams County, that the drug addicts were prosecuted when they broke into houses while the hard working were at work. But the voters also wanted to know that Junior wouldn’t get the book thrown at him when he screwed up. Even the kids of the upstanding were known to make mistakes. Fred had always been good at finding the right balance.
The problem was that, even after discussing the case with everyone he could think of, he still wasn’t sure how the Brody case would play with the voters. Of course, if he were really sure that Brody had committed murder, the decision would be easy. The problem was, he wasn’t. The assault looked solid on paper, but he knew that an attorney as skilled as Barry might pull off an acquittal. And there was no sugarcoating it––the autopsy results were undeniably inconclusive. Was it worse to lose a high-profile homicide case or to walk away from one?
All Fred really wanted was to get reelected one, may two, more times, preferably without an opponent. After that, he’d retire with a full pension from the state and spend all his free time on the golf course. He was pondering his dilemma when it came to him. He could pawn it off on the grand jury.
Grand juries were rarely used in Vermont. Prosecutors ordinarily charged crimes by filing informations, which were reviewed by judges. Occasionally, prosecutors invoked a grand jury, especially when dealing with crimes committed by law enforcement officers during the course of their duties––it helped to be able to say to the cops, “Don’t look at me, the grand jury made the call.” Fred had used a grand jury for that purpose once in his second term.
Fred called Jerry Niven, the clerk of the court. “How soon can you impanel a grand jury?” Fred said.
“I don’t know. Never done one.” Jerry had only been the clerk for five years.
“Well, have a look at Rule 6 and get back to me.”
A few hours later, Fred and Jerry met with the judge. The next day, Jerry sent summonses to thirty people. The super secret grand jury would convene the following week.
Chapter 32
Thursday, April 17, 2014
EVEN THOUGH it was a routine status conference, the camera crews were at the courthouse again. Now that this might become a murder case, they were hoping for a tidbit. Barry met Keenan and his parents before the hearing. He had told Greg and Cassie that their support at every stage was critical, that their faith in their son sent a strong message––although he suspected he wouldn’t have been able to keep them away if he’d tried.
As soon as the cameras were ready, the judge came back to the bench.
“Mr. Densmore, I see that you did not file any motions. Have there been any plea negotiations?”
“Mr. Dutton and I have discussed the case on multiple occasions. I’m afraid there’s no middle ground. This case is on a trial track, Your Honor.”
The judge peered over his reading glasses. “Very well. When do you expect to be ready for trial?”
“My client will be finished with his courses for the semester the third week in May. After that, he’ll be better able to assist in his defense. We’d like a trial in June, if we can get dates.”
“That’s awfully quick.” The judge took off his glasses and looked at the cameras.
Fred Dutton was on his feet. “May we approach, Your Honor?”
The judge nodded and waived both attorneys to the front of the room. The air was filled with a mild static noise that teetered between peaceful and irritating.
As soon as the sound blocking was on, Fred began. “As Your Honor is aware, there is the possibility of additional charges. Perhaps we should hold off on scheduling.”
“If Mr. Dutton is going to charge my client, I think, in all fairness, he should not delay,” Barry said.
“The delay is not Mr. Dutton’s fault,” the judge said.
Barry looked back and forth between the two men. What the hell did they know that he didn’t?
“You’ll find out in a few days anyway, so I might as well tell you,” Fred said. “We’re convening a grand jury on the homicide charges.”
Barry stood up straighter. “When is this happening?”
“Next week.”
“When were you going to tell me?”
“You know you’re not entitled to notice.”
“Right, so the state can stage another ambush on my nineteen-year-old client.”
“Come on, Barry. You know me better than that. I’m telling you now because I trust you’ll respect the secrecy of the proceedings. I’m giving you time to decide if you want to let your client testify before the grand jury. You know he’s the target, so there’s no point pretending otherwise.”
“And if I don’t let him testify?”
“Then they can consider the evidence and decide whether to indict without hearing from him.”
“Of course they’ll indict without his side of the story. Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.”
The judge frowned, raised a finger, and took a deep breath.
“Sorry, Your Honor,” Barry said.
The judge exhaled, but gave Barry a stern look. “Okay gentlemen, where does this leave us on the assault charge?” he said.
Fred was the first to speak. “We see the assault and the homicide as two distinct events, separated in time, which makes them two separate counts. Whether or not the defendant is indicted, I plan to keep the assault charge. I can’t say whether the defense will want to try them together or separately. I’d be inclined to join them.”
Barry shook his head. “If my client ends up facing a homicide charge, I’m not sure what we’ll want to do.”
“Under the circumstances, we should wait and see what happens next week. If there’s no indictment, we can come back the following week to discuss scheduling,” the judge said.
With grim expressions, the attorneys walked back to the counsel tables.
“The clerk will issue scheduling notices,” the judge said. “Court is in recess.” The judge rose and strode quickly from the room.
There was a moment of stunned silence in the courtroom. As far as the reporters could see, nothing had happened. All that time setting up cameras and not one thing had happened. Served them right, the vultures.
Barry whispered to Keenan, “It’ll take the press a few minutes to regroup. Get out of here as fast as you can and don’t let them corner you. Meet me at my office. Bring your parents.”
“What just happened?” Keenan said.
“I’ll tell you when you get to my office. Now, move.”
As soon as Keenan was moving, Barry decided to take a minute to talk to Fred. He caught up with him in the elevator.
“Hey, I want to thank you for giving me the heads up on the grand jury. I know you didn’t have to do that. I’m sorry if I reac
ted badly.”
“That’s okay,” Fred said. “I get it. You’re stuck between a rock and a hard place.”
“I guess you are, too.”
“What do you mean?”
“Try a case with weak circumstantial evidence or leave the only possible homicide in Adams County this decade unsolved.”
“Those are your words, not mine.”
“You really want to ruin my client’s life over weak circumstantial evidence?”
“A girl is dead.”
“And it was probably her own fault.”
“He had a motive.”
“Lots of people have motives. Almost none of them commit homicide.” Barry waited for Fred to respond, but he didn’t. Instead, the elevator was filled with a whirring sound as it climbed. “I have a feeling this is one of the those cases where we agree to disagree.”
“It won’t be the first time,” Fred said.
“No, it won’t.”
“But given the media attention, we probably shouldn’t go golfing together until after this thing is over.”
“Yup.”
They both got off the elevator. Barry took the back stairs down to the parking lot. He had hoped for a different reaction from Fred, but wasn’t surprised by the one he got. He knew enough about psychology to know when to back off––the more you try to convince someone with a lot to lose that they’re wrong, the more firmly convicted they become. There was still a sliver of hope that Fred would be able to assess the evidence objectively, and Barry did not want to be the one to get Fred’s back up.
Keenan and his parents had arrived at Barry’s office ahead of him. They were standing in his reception area when Barry bustled in. He led the way into a conference room, slapped his briefcase on the table, and shut the door.
“Have a seat.” Barry gestured toward the chairs, but remained standing himself. He could feel the worry radiating from the parents and knew that nothing he was about to say was going to assuage it.
“What’s going on?” Greg said.
“Fred Dutton is summoning a grand jury.”